Cavagnolo asked, “What was that shit with the mutilations?”
I told him what he expected to hear. “Intimidation. Maybe voodoo. Santeria. Some of these druggies get pretty paranoid and start believing in the occult to protect them.”
He replied, “I thought so.”
I pushed the newspaper back to him.
His droopy eyes and expression begged at me.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
He put a finger on the newspaper. “Gino?” As in, was he there?
“Yeah.”
If Cavagnolo’s expression fell any lower, his face would be on the table.
“I couldn’t do anything for him,” I said. “He was dead.” Actually undead but why quibble?
“Phaedra?”
“She wasn’t there.”
“You sure?”
“I saw her the day after all this happened.”
“Where?” Cavagnolo withdrew his finger from the newspaper and his voice rang with hope.
“In the mountain park. Close to town. She had a hideaway.”
“Yeah. That place.” Apparently he knew more about Phaedra than she suspected. “The sheriff didn’t find much there.”
I waited for Cavagnolo to mention Nguyen’s motorcycle, and when he didn’t, I was sure the Araneum had scrubbed the area of vampiric presence.
The waitress brought a basket of bread, a saucer of olive oil, and a small bowl with marinara sauce. Cavagnolo ordered a Diet Coke and the veal parmesan special. I asked for a cup of coffee.
“That’s it?” Cavagnolo asked. “The food here is delicious.”
I knew that. But the only meals I’ve gotten from Gaetano’s were takeout, which I ordered without garlic and once home, drowned in blood.
“Coffee is fine. I didn’t know you had lunch in mind. I’ve already eaten.”
Cavagnolo pleaded with his hands as if to refuse was to hurt him. “What’s an extra bite?”
I slapped my belly. “Gotta watch the weight. I prefer to get my bites somewhere else.”
“At least try the bread. The garlic seasoning is incredible.”
“No thanks,” I insisted. “Allergies.”
“You mean one of those gluten aversion things?”
“No, it’s the garlic.”
“Allergic to garlic?” He tore a chunk of bread and chomped on it. “Might as well give up breathing.”
That too, but not because of allergies.
I didn’t want Cavagnolo to think because we both worried about Phaedra that we were now on the road to becoming big chums. I decided to push him off balance.
“How does this affect…the thing?”
“What thing?”
“The deal you got with your buddies.” I pointed to an American flag over the bar. The feds.
“Oh.” Cavagnolo kept quiet. Nothing like the possibility of blackmail to drive a wedge between us.
He surprised me with a smile. “Can you believe it? The cops asked me about this Hennison creep. For once my hands were cleaner than a virgin’s panties.” The smile turned shrewd. “What’s come out of this deal is that I’ve gotten a bigger blank check to do what I’ve always been doing.”
“Playing the system?”
“Like a fucking piano.”
The waitress brought the Diet Coke and my coffee. Cavagnolo sipped the soda and his eyes focused on the faraway. My coffee was cold. I thought about asking for another, but no, I wasn’t staying.
He gave a long sigh, like he’d dropped a great weight off his shoulders. “Much as I’ve tried to help, that girl has always been trouble. Wouldn’t surprise me if all this shit spooked her and she took off.”
“Run away? Where to?”
“Who the fuck knows? It’s not the first time. Phaedra acted like she was hearing voices from another planet. I think everyone’s accepted the inevitable.”
“What are you getting at?”
He put the soda down. The droopiness was gone from his eyes and they looked hard. Stoic. “Why the concern? You don’t have a thing for her, do you?”
“No, I don’t have a thing for her. She’s a kid in trouble, that’s all.”
“What makes you think you’re so special to her?”
I turned her into a vampire.
“No matter what you’ve done,” Cavagnolo continued, “I’ll tell you how she’ll show her gratitude. The same as she’s done with everyone else. By leaving you on a goddamn limb. I know her. She used the excuse of the Huntington’s to break all the rules. Drugs. Sex. She stole from her school. Her aunt. From me. I’m saying this out of love. Her problems aren’t just here.” Cavagnolo tapped his brow. “But here as well.” He thumped his chest over the heart.
Not anymore.
His voice trailed to a mumble. “She ran off on her own, no?”
She was last seen with Nguyen, but I didn’t need to mention this. “As far as I know.”
“Then forget it. A girl her age, she wants to run away, you couldn’t keep her home by chaining her legs to the goddamn plumbing. I told you before. She is nothing but fucking trouble.”
Cavagnolo grabbed a hunk of bread and ran it through the marinara. The sauce dripped off the crust like blood. “Trust me, the next time you see Phaedra, you’ll regret it.”
I was back in my office in the Oriental Theater. Three weeks had passed since my return from Morada. I should’ve been concerned with getting new cases: schmoozing my contacts and hanging out at the lawyer watering holes. So far all the work I’d accomplished was to open and sort my mail into two piles. Stuff I’d ignore today. Stuff I’d ignore tomorrow.
Jolie lay next to me. Our naked bodies pressed against each other.
The disappearance of Phaedra and Nguyen rekindled the anguish we’d felt after losing Carmen. We’d fallen back on each other. Sex was a way to feel safe and familiar. In the familiar we could feel our individual sorrow.
I spooned against Jolie as best I could on the narrow chaise longue. Our feet dangled off one end.
I slipped my arm under hers. “You seem distracted. What’s going on?”
“Besides losing Phaedra and Nguyen?” She clasped my hand and stared at the far wall.
I waited for her to complete an answer but she didn’t.
Jolie rubbed her head along my shoulder. “How much longer are we going to keep screwing?”
Sex wasn’t what troubled her. “You mean today?”
“No.” She let go of my hand. “I mean until we move on.”
I cupped her breast and dragged my fangs across the back of her neck. “Might take a while.”
She slapped my thigh and sat. “Then take care of business on your own. I gotta go.”
Jolie shimmied into her panties, a tank top, and leather motorcycle pants. The black cuffs made her naked feet look pink and raw. I slipped on jeans and an aloha shirt that I didn’t bother to button. The rest of our clothes remained on the floor.
Someone knocked. My ears and fingertips buzzed in alarm.
Jolie’s aura flashed with surprise.
Her eyes asked: Who could this be?
I responded with a shake of my head. The other three tenants on this floor had never bothered me. As far as I knew, I was alone in the building today. No one could come up without getting buzzed through the entrance.
Another knock.
My fangs and talons grew to fighting length.
A dog barked.
Dog?
Jolie put her back to the wall beside the door, her talons and fangs extended.
I approached the door. My contacts were out, so I’d zap first and ask questions later. My reflexes tensed to respond at vampire speed.
The dog gave another bark. I opened the door.
Orange glows surrounded two female vampires. Both wore sunglasses. The dark-skinned one was Phyllis. She held the leash to her weird retriever/blue heeler mutt.
The other vampire was a blonde wearing wraparound shades and a black trench coat. Her nose and cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut salami. Her hair was as shiny and perfect as a sheet of polished gold. The haughty attitude told me she must also be from the Araneum.
Jolie stepped into view.